Within My Grasp
by keeponwritin
Summary: Inside the mind of Degrassi's favorite criminal: Jay. [Slash.] Rated R for rampant profanity.
1. Beautiful Obscenity

[Guezz what, kids? Iiiiiit's slash time! I'd also like to point out that this is the POV of Jay. Sorry to say, you must have seen at least part of the third season of Degrassi to know who he is.  
  
I'd like to briefly mentioned that while I'm a US kid, I've downloaded most of the second half of season three. This sort of takes place around April or May of that year, so it would technically be towards the end of season three. There's just one major coupling that I mention, but it's like, unless you're completely living under a rock and you never watch The-N, they've made it so obvious that these two are about to hook up and it's all over the sneak peeks. (Dude, they even have their own commercial that they show, you know, at least 15 times an hour.) So don't worry, if you know that much, you won't be reading any spoilers.  
  
But hey, if you really want spoilers, you can e-mail me at tumadrequierequesoyahoo.com. Just don't ask where I downloaded them. That's classified information. ;)  
  
Oh right. Enjoy the story!]  
  
I leaned forward, sitting on top of my car, resting my elbows on my knees. It was so damn hot these days. My air-conditioning was royally screwed, so this is how all of my afternoons were spent: sitting on the hood of my car, smoking a cigarette. Maybe I was silently hoping to have a heat stroke, or to get lung cancer and die out here. Didn't really matter either way to me. Life, death--it was all pretty fucking similar, in the end.  
  
I moved out of my mom's house two years ago. My dad was the real asshole type, left us when I was only eight. My relationship with my mom got nice after that. You know, that whole, all we've got is each other' bull that I was fed for several years. She didn't even compare to my dad, but it took me at least six years to realize she was a complete tyrant. She had mental issues; I couldn't deal with that. I'd begun to build my reputation at this point in time. I couldn't just let my mom drag me down so quickly. So, one day, I just walked out. No big blow-up fight or any shit like that. Just...upped and left. Just like dad.  
  
I was barely sixteen and looking for my own place. A couple kids in 12th grade took me under their wing and let me stay and their place. Comically enough, this was back when I still sorta cared about school. I'd never enjoyed school, but my mom had drilled it into my head the whole goddamn process: go to school, go to college, get a job, get married, have kids. I had tried to study but there were constant parties. If it wasn't a party, then it was music that was too loud, or people yelling or being rowdy and laughing. Finally, I just gave up and snapped. I joined the party. I stopped giving a fuck about the I did what made me happy.  
  
I just got my own apartment over the summer. Same summer I met Alex. School came, and I was fully prepared to do no work at all. Things were smooth as hell for me for a couple months. Then, out of the blue, comes this kid--a grade nine, no less--acting so laughably angsty, with the whole Eminem pissed-off-at-the-world' act down to a cue. I just sort of laughed at him for a while. The first time he ever talks to me, though, he proves he's got balls. Then I just sort of admired him for a while. I mean, grade nine, pulling that kind of stunt--he's got to have something special about him.  
  
Then, the little fight. I didn't think it was very damn cool at the time, but when I think back on it, the little punk gave me a black eye. A black eye, for God's sake. Black eyes aren't as easy to give as people think. It takes uncontrollable rage to intentionally give someone a black eye. And as we sat in the principal's office, awaiting Raditch to call one of us in, I kept glancing over at him and smirking a little. It was just like watching any cartoon where a small character tries to be a fighter. It wasn't so often these characters succeeded. But this kid had.  
  
And by that, he'd ripped my world apart.  
  
Out of my peripheral vision, I saw a figure move. I turned to my left and there he was, walking with his hands jammed in his pockets, his gray hood up as usual, and his eyes glancing towards the ground. He stopped a few feet from my car, and nodded vaguely.  
  
I looked him over once or twice.  
  
What brings you here, I questioned, nodding vaguely back. After all, the kid didn't come over often.  
  
Nothing better to do, I guess, he said as he hopped up onto the hood of the car next to me. I wish he hadn't said that so damn believably. I let the pause linger before going on with my questioning.  
  
Where's the goth chick? I asked, smirking. I could probably guess why she wasn't around anymore, but the kid was overly sensitive when it came to his ex-girlfriends.  
  
We broke up, alright? The way he said it was so fucking adorable. All indignant and trying to hide the fact that he was even the least bit sad about it.  
  
Why, she too creepy for your liking? I was still smirking at this point. Torturing him was far too easy. He just looked away and ignored my question. After thirty seconds of pause, he turned back around and questioned me.   
  
What about you and Alex? I never see you with her anymore. Brilliant observation, I thought, as I brought the cigarette to my chapped lips.  
  
She's off screwing some college guy now. Or several. I exhaled the cigarette smoke slowly. I don't give a fuck either way. She can get all the STDs she wants. The comment made the kid uncomfortable, and I could tell by his silence. I just smiled wryly though. I didn't really care if we sat there all day. I could use some company.  
  
You really...don't care about anyone, do you? he asked me so, so naively. I shook my head and laughed. I just had to.  
  
If you're still believing that, you know me worse than you think you do, I quietly explained. I wanted to pretend like it didn't piss me off that the one kid I'd thought got me was just as stupid as the rest of them. I care about people more than you'd think.  
  
Then why do you do this? he shot back immediately. Why do you give yourself that whole gangsta' persona, and make people think you're some tough guy? I stared at him, and I was so torn between kicking his ass and gently explaining everything.  
  
You think I chose this persona? You think I want to do this shit and act like this? I scoffed--bitter was always better than angry. The rumors did this to me. You think I actually put 10 bullets in some kid's head last year? I put my head down for a second, then looked back up, speaking more calmly. Fuck, man, the worst I've ever done was hijacked a car. I don't go out and try to hurt people. I started in 8th grade when my mom was laying on the couch and complaining about a headache. So I walked to the supermarket, shoved a bottle of aspirin in my coat pocket and walked out. I paused. I'd never told that story to anyone. Why the fuck do you think I did that? Because I don't give a fuck about anyone, right? The kid had his head down. Good. I hope he felt bad. Everything you've heard and seen of me is just a persona. So don't tell me I'm some unsympathetic jackass when you can't even keep a relationship stable for more than 2 weeks. With the last comment, though, he looked up at me with those raging eyes.  
  
That's great, he said contemptuously, coming from a guy who just said he doesn't even remotely care what happens to his ex-girlfriend. He sighed huffily. At least Ellie and I are still friends. Yeah. See how long that lasts.  
  
Alex was a bitch. She was for convenience's sake. I threw my cigarette to the ground. What the fuck am I supposed to do, walk around with just Towerz all the time?   
  
What, are you afraid someone's gonna think you're gay? he asked, laughing good-naturedly. I hesitated. I shouldn't have hesitated.  
  
Fuck you, I said quietly. I should've defended myself--I couldn't actually let this punk-ass find out. When he didn't say anything, I felt my pulse rising. I know you wish I were gay, but things can't always go your way. Still no response, and I felt my own discomfort fast approaching. I finally just turned to the punk and looked at him condescendingly, staring at me. What's your problem? I asked, trying to appear angry. He put his head down, having stopped laughing.  
  
You said it yourself, he said, not looking up, but I stared at him. 'Everything I've heard and seen of you is just a persona.' I breathed heavily through gritted teeth.  
  
Now you're calling me a fucking queer? I asked exasperatedly, trying to maintain a sort of bitter smile. You're putting me on the same level as Homochuk, and that goth chick's friend, and that fag Tom? I laughed fakely. Get real, man. He paused again. Damnit, stop that. Stop doing that...  
  
If you...are, man, it's okay, he said quietly, comfortingly. I wouldn't tell anyone. And the offer was so fucking tempting. If I could just tell some random person about this, I think I would've told someone else, and much sooner than this. It was so naive to think this could all be solved if I just admitted it to one person. I looked over at him with no expression on my face. His face was just so damn innocent and yet, overwhelmed, as if he had a thing to worry about.   
  
I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him to me. The feeling of his lips pressing against mine was more than I could bare. If this kid had but a scrap of innocence left, I'd savored the seconds as I buried it deep in the ground. His soft lips temporarily soothed the deep cut in my lip, the one he had made himself. It wasall so unnecessary and insane and obscene and wrong and beautiful.   
  
I pushed him back towards the windshield and kept my expression blank. I didn't think before I pushed him off the hood of my car.  
  
Just go home.


	2. So Close, I Can Taste It

__

And I need you now tonight

And I need you more than ever

And if you only hold me tight

We'll be holding on forev–

I blindly slammed my hand against the cheap clock radio lying next to my pillow. What a fucking terrible song.

I woke up that next morning with the sheets thrown off my bed, heat resonating off my skin. My whole body was on fire, having not opened a window last night. I was too preoccupied with the thoughts spiraling out of control in my mind to think about something as pointless as staying cool as I slept. There were some more important things in my god-forsaken life right then.

I grabbed the sheets off my floor and wiped the back of my neck, damp with sweat, then against my better judgment, stood up and started walking out my bedroom door. I pulled my wife beater down to cover my stomach as I made my way into the kitchen and towards my makeshift pantry. It was actually a bunch of plastic boxes I'd thrown together. I pulled out some white bread for toast and opened up the bag to discover mold growing rampantly through bread, bread I'd bought less than three weeks ago. And I had no cereal either. Shit. That meant real grocery shopping. I rummaged through bags of chips and packages of Ramen noodles to find the last strawberry Pop-Tart package. I grudgingly threw them in the toaster and glanced at the clock on the wall. 3:08, it told me, as it had for the past month and a half. I looked at the microwave clock. 11:43. Jesus, I'd slept late. It was pretty funny how I'd been looking for a job. Like I could ever wake up in time for that shit. Not that I would get a job in the first place–not a fucking soul in Degrassi that's willing to look past a criminal record like mine. If that's not ignorance, I don't know what the hell is.

I grabbed my Pop-Tarts out of the toaster when they were done and flopped down on my skanky, musty little yellow couch. I flipped on the TV for some Saturday morning cartoons. I found it difficult as fuck to concentrate on some show I'd never seen before, when all I could do was lick my lips and hope they still tasted like him. There had never been a memory before then that I wanted to relive so desperately. I wanted to make it last longer, or explain and make him understand. But more than that, I wanted him to want it, to join me and block out the world. Instead, I killed it. I took my own moment and stabbed it square in the head. Why the fuck did I have to think so much? I suddenly had forgotten about how much I wanted that kiss, and started thinking about his feelings. His feelings, like I ever gave a fuck about his feelings until then.

Hours passed as I sat, my eyes clinging to the television set and the mindless cartoons, eventually fading into real shows. More things I could control popped into my head: who Sean might tell, the rumors, the further destruction of me. I faced every bastardly little thing before this head-on, taking no prisoners. Everyone else's screw-ups, I could deal with. My own screw-ups ate away at me. I couldn't take much more of this miserable life. I eventually fell asleep with the TV on mute, to the sound of my refrigerator humming.

A distant buzzing noise invaded my lonely dream. It got louder until I recognized it as my doorbell, and dragged myself out of the dent I'd made in the couch. No one ever came over my house. All my friends and all the people I'd met quickly realized my place was shitty for parties: tiny, no space to do anything. It could've been Alex, coming to pick up the clothes she'd left here almost a month ago. Or Towerz, I'd borrowed some money from him recently. Or it could be

"Hey," Sean said, without the friendly tone that the word usually entailed. My heart did fucking flip-flops, as he just stood there, without his usual beanie cap thing, leaving his hair exposed. I avoided eye contact, which only drew my eyes to his lips, anyway. I held the door in its place and waited. I saw him roll his eyes for a second before revealing a duffel bag that had been thrown over his back. "I need to stay the night."

I stared. What, was my apartment suddenly the Motel 8 or something? I didn't just let people come in and sleep in my house for no good reason. I wanted a full-length story as to why he left his own house and why he couldn't go over anyone else's house, and why he'd finally come to my house and–

But Jesus. It was Sean. Barely sixteen years old, and as fucking much as I hate to admit it, has lived a rougher life than me. Things always worked out in my favor. When I left my mom, my friends were right there to pick me up. When I was bored and all alone over the summer, I just happened to meet Alex around town. I'd heard about this kid's criminal record, both here and in Wasega. Major shit when he was still twelve. I couldn't deal with that in my memory.

"Yeah, whatever," I said curtly, letting him walk by, closing the door behind him. He threw his duffel bag down by the bedroom door, and started walking towards my kitchen. I finally noticed that outside my window, the sun had set on the world, just as I felt energized and ready to go out and live. Once again, timing proved to be the biggest bitch after all. I followed him into the kitchen, where he was already digging into an old bag of Cheetos. "Yeah, just, make yourself at home," I said dryly, before grabbing a TV dinner out of the freezer and shoving it in the microwave. I leaned against the counter and faced Sean, eating Cheetos like he hadn't had a decent meal in days. "Why you here, anyway?" I usually didn't care about offending people, especially not friends. But for some reason, this situation seemed delicate. Like we were all made of glass and the smallest pebble of an insult could shatter everything. He looked up with those eyes, seeming so much more human when the rest of him wasn't veiled in gray.

"Stuff," he shrugged. That was all he said. It was as if he knew my current condition and state of mind, and that I wasn't going to press him for anything. "You know, just gets boring. Lonely." For a second, there was my sympathy in my eyes. I quickly brushed it away. "No plans tonight, I'm guessing?" he said with a smirk, causing my heart to twitch in my chest. I hid it with a fake sort of scowl.

"What makes you say that?" I asked, glaring. He cocked his head at me, then laughed, shaking his head.

"Nice PJ's, man." Shit. Again, I hid my embarrassment–something I would never show to the world–and chose to fight fire with fire. I didn't really think anything of it beforehand.

"Yeah, well, nice hair," I said, as I reached over at ruffled the soft mess of hair. "Did you comb it yourself?" I was grinning. We both were in the seconds beforehand, I was sure. But as my hand retreated back to balance my weight against the counter, his smile was nowhere near the same as mere seconds before.

"Yeah," he said, the happiness slipping away, giving in to discomfort. "I should get to bed, I havethings to do tomorrow." He wrapped up the Cheetos bag and placed it back in the pantry before making his way to the couch. On his way there, he didn't even bother to turn around as he said, "Night, Jay."

I licked my lips one final time.

"Yeah. Night."

-----

[A/N: Yay for the yayness? I would just like to say that my story is very opening for uh, questioning. Suggestions, too, if you feel so inclined. But I'd actually really like people to question things in a review. I'll probably either answer it in an author's note next chapter or it will be answered eventually in the story. Either way, please review because I am another review-hungry loser. Feed my low self-esteem. Thank you.]


	3. There's So Much In Life

A hand rested lightly on my shoulder. I resisted the temptation to let my eyes open. My semi-conscious mind fuzzily interpreted the hand to be that of my mother's, so I turned and slept on my other shoulder, ignoring her. The grip tightened and shook me slightly, and the lack of yelling and complaining clicked something in my brain. My eyes flickered to half-lidded and I faced the other direction. Sean stood there, both apprehension and worry on his face, and I groaned. I hated that fucking look. He probably used it on his parents all the time to get them to be concerned. Back when he lived with his parents, anyway.

We didn't bother with formal morning greetings. I didn't even bother to acknowledge him. I threw the covers off myself and stood up, now unaffected by the fact I was only wearing a wife beater and boxers around a friend. A male friend. I grabbed socks out of the drawer and sat back down on the bed, Sean still standing and looking bewildered. Like he was shocked that for once, his needs were not the center of everyone's attention. I smirked at his confusion and started pulling on my socks.

"You gonna speak, or what?" I asked in mock-irritation of his silence. These games kept my sanity in tact. They were so easy to play with Sean; he was so naïve, and gullible, and self-absorbed. Was everyone always so damn straightforward with him? I mean, he didn't appreciate a little fucking cynicism.

He put his head down, as if suddenly ashamed of something. I hated how he always spoke with his actions. I wanted words. I need to hear things. I never trusted my eyes. My ears take shit and store it as is. My brain interprets things how it wants to. If you want someone to know something, just say it, for God's sake.

"I need to stay here for a while." I immediately shook my head, not to say no, and not in disapproval, but just in disbelief. There goes his self-centered attitude again, thinking I'm just supposed to let him stay here and cater to his every need, no regard for my fucking privacy or anything. I stared up at him as his eyes glanced towards the off-white carpet. Then, I started looking him over. The wife beater, the shorts, the socks. He was almost like a joke of a statue. Only his eyes were moving, but other than that, he was stiff as a board. He was all "macho" and "buff," but wearing those clothes, it was almost laughable.

…Jesus. JESUS. I was just staring at Sean. Staring at his arms, pretending to be sizing him up, pretending to be deciding and letting him stand there while I just stare at him. It felt beyond wrong. It felt invasive, and stupid, and Jesus, I was staring at him.

"Yeah, sure," I rushed out, no longer feeling like playing any more games. He cocked his eyebrow for a second, I think. I was standing up and pushing him towards the door before I got a good look. "Now get the fuck out." I tried to plaster a tiny joking smirk on my face before closing the door on him, but I was serious. I'd just agreed to have him in my house for God knows how long, and I couldn't deal with him standing in my room for more than five minutes.

I'd been trying to forget about Friday afternoon this whole weekend, and Sean's presence was not helping this process at all. I mean, what the hell was I doing, letting him barge in here and let him drive me insane? Was I just a complete fucking mess that I would do this sort of thing to myself?

I got changed into some jeans and one of a few clean gray shirts, and hesitantly exited my room. I entered my kitchen to find Sean sitting in the same seat as yesterday, leaning over a bowl of Fruit Loops.

"Where'd you find that?" I asked, making small talk. I was doing a pretty fucking good job of pretending like I wasn't dying on the inside, thinking about the feeling of kissing Sean and wondering if I could stay sane for just a little while longer.

"Bottom of the pantry," he said, before bringing the spoon up to his mouth again. I made a mental note to be more observant.

"So, for how many days do you plan on waking me up at ungodly hours and eating my cereal?" I finally asked, leaning against the counter and glaring at him. He stood up and walked towards the cabinet with the cups. He opened it and took one out, then turned around and sighed.

"Just a week," he said. "Week and a half, at most." Somehow, I just didn't believe him. He wanted to stay here and he knew he was snapping me in half. I'd always thought I was so much damn smarter than him, so the thought that I could be completely fooling myself into believing my own fucking lies, and he had me wrapped around his finger—I just wanted to kill myself, if that's what it came down to.

But I silently agreed, and we stayed in silence for the remainder of our unofficial breakfast. I glanced over at him often, but said nothing. Finally, though, as he stood up to put his bowl in the sink, I spoke up.

"We need to go shopping." I finished off the milk in my bowl and walked over to the sink, where Sean was still standing.

"Shopping?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows and grinning, obviously amused by the thought of me shopping.

"For food, jackass." I pushed by him and went to grab my jacket off the back of the couch. I turned around and he was still standing there by the sink. "Come on, you're coming with me." He didn't protest, and I felt a little better about my control over the situation. At the very least, I could get him to listen to me. Just because I'd accepted him as a friend didn't mean I didn't still have power over him.

I locked my door and led him down the stairs and out the front door. The air was cooler than the last time I'd felt it. That, of course, was Friday afternoon. A weird feeling was developing in my stomach, and traveling up my chest, as I walked towards the familiar sight of my junky black car, looking like it had been burnt to a crisp over the weekend. I unlocked it and let us both into the oven that was the inside of my car, with its black leather interior.

Again, my eyes wandered, and I glanced at Sean again as I jammed the keys into the ignition and started the car. He looked wonderfully unemotional, just at the moment I was trying to cop a feel for what the bastard was thinking about. It never really hit me until then that he was apart of what happened on Friday, too. He had acted so fucking nonchalant; coming over my house, teasing me, waking me up and all of it. I was beginning to wonder if it was all just some sick pathetic fantasy. But all these moments of either awkward tension or silence just shoved it in my face. Things were a hell of a lot different.

We pulled up to a convenience store, where I usually shopped for food. At first, the cashier guy always looked at me weirdly. I'd scowl and he'd just roll his eyes. But even the initial looks were nothing compared to the people at the grocery store, who had such sticks up their asses, I thought they were about to deny me the right to buy food at their fucking store. The town of Degrassi can be so fucked up sometimes.

I walked in, Sean following behind, and the small bell rang as I stepped through. I headed straight for the back, where the soda and beer resided. I was getting kind of tired, so when I picked out the six-pack of Amstel, I handed it over to Sean. I heard the small bell ring again while I was picking up a six-pack of Dr. Pepper.

"Just…stand there," I told him, too tired to deal with shopping for food. I just wanted to grab some chips and some booze and be out of there. "What do you want, kid? Some baby formula? A bib? Baby food?"

"Funny, Jay." He sighed and looked around the store. "Just get me some bread or s—"

"Sean. Hey," a soft voice said. I turned around and there was this chick. I'd seen her around school. It was that chick that never smiled. She was almost worse than Sean's goth ex.

"Uh, hey, Ash." She noticeably peered down at his hands, still holding the cans of beer. "I-it's not mine," he said quickly. "I'm just…helping…carry stuff." And here's how to make a kid quickly go from cool to pathetic nervous wreck. Was he into this girl or something?

"Oh." She smiled warmly and put her hand out to me. "I'm Ashley, by the way." I stared at her perfect little hand, all smooth, no dirt under her trimmed fingernails. I raised my eyebrows and nodded at her, then had to walk away. I didn't care that she was nice. She wasn't one of us.

I stayed within earshot of their conversation, and listened on. I vaguely heard Sean apologizing for me, and I reminded myself to kick his ass later. Then, the girl started whispering about something, something about 'two years ago' and 'setting things right.' I tried to continue picking out food but my curiosity was sparked. This wasn't another one of Sean's ex-girlfriends, I hoped. I picked up some more junk as I listened, and finally interrupted them as I started getting tired.

"…Sure. I mean, that'd be fine," I heard Sean saying as I approached them. I didn't come too close, but they noticed me after a second.

"Sean," I said, simply. I nodded over to the cashier and avoiding eye contact with the chick. He turned back to her and looked so laughably serious.

"Call me, okay?" she said quietly. He nodded, and she quickly walked towards the cashier. I said nothing, just grabbed one more six-pack of beer and assumed he would follow me to the cashier.

I started up the car after we'd loaded the trunk with our crap. I'd barely pulled out of the parking lot when I started laughing to myself. Looking back on it, I was all just so funny. Sean, this big fucking pathetic loser, being with all these girls—Emma, Amy, Ellie, and now this girl. Ash.

"What?" he asked, indignantly.

"You, man," I said, still grinning and laughing. "You…having all these girls. I mean, you just broke up with your girlfriend last week, and now…" I paused to laugh some more. "You meet up with a girl in a convenience store, and she tells you to call her." I was laughing so hard, I almost let go of the wheel. "I mean, am I missing something here? Are you some kind of pimp, and I don't know about it?"

"It's not like that," he said, his facial expression completely serious for the first time in a while. "We're just friends. She's been through a lot."

"Whatever, man," I said, still laughing. And I kept laughing, even if only slightly, until we got back to the apartment. As soon as the car stopped, Sean grabbed the door handle and threw it open in a fit of anger.

"And you wonder why everyone hates you." And the door slammed shut.

Suddenly, my laughing ceased.

I didn't really think it was that funny in the first place.

------

[A/N: If you're wondering, (which you shouldn't be…DON'T QUESTION ME! …just kidding?), the cashier kid and Jay are kinda friends. So he lets Jay buy beer. If you think it's farfetched, then you're not cool. Go away.

Um, anyway. Ask questions. Prettyfulness. Oh, and review. Keep in mind my low self-esteem.]


	4. Hush, Hush

[A/N: Starting a chapter with an author's note? Que ridiculo, I know. I'd just like to say a bit.

Lane- Why yes, Lane, perhaps I am. wink   

Kitty Kat- Actually, I looked it up. Legal drinking age in Ontario (which is where I always assume Degrassi is, but they never really say, do they?) is 19. And Jay's only 18.

There are things I'd like to say to other reviewers but they'd ruin the story. Therefore you must read and….um. React accordingly? But yes, thanks for the support. ]

Loud rap music blasted my ear drums as my eyes shot open to see the blinding green numbers tell me it was 7:30 in the morning. I quickly pushed the off button and got out of bed, dragging my sheets almost out the door with me.

The sun was filtering in through the window near the TV, and it blinded me. I preferred winter, and waking up when it was still pitch black, over this. School was so close to over, and I was a senior. What the hell was the point, anyway? All I ever did was go to shop class and lunch, and laugh at pathetic underclassmen and intimidate people. Without Alex, things were even worse. Sean was a freshman; I understood he actually had to go to most of his classes, but the kid never wanted to skip. Ever. There was always some excuse about failing a class or his record or his brother threatening to punish him, and I believed him, but I didn't care. With no one but Towerz to hang out with, things got boring. Even he was still preoccupied these days with that god-awful grade nine girl. I mean, Jesus, I thought Sean's taste in girls was bad.

Speaking of Sean, I found myself leaning over the back of the couch, staring at Sean. His face was sorta peaceful when he slept: blank, but not in that usual I-don't-give-a-fuck-about-the-world-so-I'll-stay-blank look. It was just…contentment. No scowl, no eye-rolling, no bitter disposition. Just calmness.

I shook my head and reached my hand down, grabbing at his thick arm and shaking him violently.

"Rise and shine, Cameron," I said, quietly, but roughly. "You don't want miss precious seconds of your valuable education." At this point, I'd almost forgotten that the last thing he'd said to me was about everyone hating me. Suddenly, the lack of a response made much more sense. I stopped teasing. "I'm serious, you've got school, let's go." His eyes were still closed but he failed to hide the smile forming on his face.

"Turning all parental already, Jay?" he asked before finally opening his eyes. "You know my brother didn't even start that for almost a year." The position of me leaning over him and he, lying there, felt so bizarre, I couldn't stand to do it any longer. I backed away, weirded out.

"Early start," I joked, heading over to my kitchen. I had never been in that damn kitchen so much until Sean decided he was going to live at my house for a week. I rummaged through my pantry. I hadn't really gotten much good food yesterday. I still kinda wondered what was up with Sean and that chick… "You want toast?"

"Yeah, sure," Sean answered. I threw a couple pieces of bread in the toaster. "Listen, you mind if I change out here?" I nearly choked on the piece of bread I'd just bitten off. It wasn't the thought of Sean getting undressed in my living room that made my heart rate increase tenfold. It was the closeness. How I could walk just five steps in that direction and so accidentally see. Didn't he give a fuck? Didn't I give a fuck?

"Whatever you want, man," I called back shakily. I wasn't nervous or anything. I had everything completely under control. There was no reason why I stumbling across the kitchen and not really thinking about what I was doing. Within seconds, he came in and took his usual seat at the counter. I calmed down. We both looked calm. So I thought.

"I need money for lunch," he said nonchalantly as I shoved the toast and some butter in front of him. Frustratedly, I dug in my pocket and all I really had was a ten dollar bill. I took his empty hand, opened it, shoved it into his palm and closed it.

"Lose it and I kill you." I smiled wryly.

Breakfast finished quickly, and we drove to school. We got there at 8:12; school started at 8:15. Sean looked thoroughly impressed as he was stepping out of the car with his bag.

"Nice job," he commented, grinning.

"Don't get used to it," I shot back sarcastically, before he made his way up the stairs into the school, as I found a parking space nearby.

The day progressed as usual. I'd begun to forget that anything even happened between me and Sean. It was just a stupid impulse thing and he didn't seem too bothered by it anyway. I mean, just cause I kissed the kid doesn't mean I'm like….fucking in love, or something.

I dropped the subject and tried to move on to other things. I was not about to dwell on this. It was one stupid fucking moment and it meant nothing. Besides, I had better things to think about.

We drove home later and he wasn't exactly wearing the same smile I'd last seen him with. In fact, all he did during the ride home was stare out the window. I'd never realized that his eyes were kind of green until the sun shone into his eyes and made the colors all…vibrant. I'd never really seen them in that light. I'd only seen them in dark hallways, where they looked pitch black and menacing. I didn't really know what to make of it.

A few hours passed back at home, as I lounged on the couch (Sean's bed for the week, I later realized) and watched mindless television, until it finally dawned on me that I hadn't seen Sean in a while. Yeah, it sounded stupid, but I wasn't getting used to living with another human being. Especially a younger one…it was like a real responsibility. I never did well with real responsibilities.

I looked around, but there weren't many places he could hide unless he left altogether. But he'd left his stuff, and he couldn't be at a party—I know about all the parties that were going on, unless it was some underclassmen affair. I grimaced at the thought. I hated Sean hanging with those people—they didn't understand him, they weren't good for him. I looked in the last place he could be; I didn't think it was likely, but I opened the door to my porch and there he was. Lying across the tiny porch with just the wife beater and his boxers on.  It was still weird, a sight I wasn't used to. But his hands supported his head and he was laying there, on my crappy wooden porch.

"Hey," he said quietly, and the wind seemed to sweep his words away.

I didn't say anything, but I took the seat sitting next to his head, and laid my head back, facing the same direction as him. I wanted to begin thinking about something profound—about the wind, or the moon, or the stars. All I could think about was the heat, and the sweat already forming on my neck. The wind cooled me down temporarily, but I never knew when it was coming. I wanted to know when it was coming. I wanted to control it.

"I'm sorry about what I said yesterday," Sean said, and in the dim orange light I could see his eyes were closed. His voice lacked all sincerity, but in something, I saw the truth. I absentmindedly pulled a cigarette out of the box in my pocket, along with a lighter.

"Don't be." I brought the cigarette to my lips and looked up. The stars were impossible to see. "It's true, anyway." I exhaled, and the silence was deafening. I didn't want to become his pity case. I didn't care who hated me.

"I don't hate you, man." I looked down, and he had his eyes open, looking back at me. I looked away. The statement was brotherly, I knew that. But I looked back a few seconds later, and his eyes were closed again. Light reflected off his forehead, the heat continued to burn me, and I closed my eyes in silence.

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[A/N: Pun very much intended. Please review, or I can never love you.

Not to sound too overenthusiastic or anything…BUT READ** "STARVING ARTIST" **by** love-fool. **Because it is awesome, it is like 10 times better than this fic and that be the truth. Now do it**. **Do it. Do it.]


	5. You Only Get What You Give

We'd stolen stuff together. That's all we'd ever done, and now, we were like, these major effing friends. I still wondered about last Friday, and where it lay in his mind. It was a gamble: if he thought about it a lot, I could set things straight, however awkward it may be; if he hadn't thought about it, I would be ringing it up for no reason and making an unnecessary awkward moment. God knows we didn't get enough of those. Basically, it was a lose-lose situation. Ignorance proved to be bliss.  
  
It was Wednesday morning. As usual, I was standing at the counter and eating my Kix while Sean sat and hunched over his bowl. It was like this every morning. Come to the kitchen, eat cereal together in silence, drive to school. Every other part of the day, we could be cool, and bond, and we'd done that thing a lot in these past few days. I'd gotten away with a whole lot in my life, with stealing and lying, but this was like some sick fantasy. How the fuck do you get away with kissing a person and then still keep them as a friend? People dream about having the chance to get away with something like that, and I'm standing here, eating my cereal and watching him eat and still feeling like my life is complete shit, and I get all these insane opportunities by pure luck, and that drives me insane. Who the hell is controlling the universe, when I, the biggest asshole I know, get to lead this privileged and go to a decent school and have a decent apartment–I hated it. I hated it a lot fucking lot.  
  
"I'm going to a party this Friday night," he mumbled. I smiled wryly.  
  
"I'll bet you are," I said, nodding. My smile only lasted for as long as I was not looking at him. As soon as I saw his face, I went on, "You're not serious.  
  
Yeah, I am, he said bitingly. I looked over at the stack of paper plates I'd bought at the dollar store a couple weeks ago. I didn't feel like dealing with Sean anymore. I was sick of him and his attitude. He could act so immature sometimes, like some temperamental three-year-old. And sometimes, I really didn't give a fuck about his past and the fact that he hadn't had any real friends his whole life, save that annoying-as-hell Emma chick. Before I got a chance to think about kicking his ass out of here, I heard him sigh, and his voice went back to calm. It's at this girl Heather's house. I'm only going to be there for a couple hours with Ash, and I can walk there myself...   
  
I never said you _couldn't_ go. So this was about the Ash girl. I was determined to find out what their history was, and what made Sean so anxious to go to a party with her, but at the same time, I didn't care. It didn't matter. It was too late for anything to matter. I can drive you. As pathetic as I felt to sink this low, I thought about going to the party. And actually going into that house, probably full of rich, self-absorbed egotistical bastards, the type of people who had looked down on me my whole life and spit on my shoes. To sit at home and let Sean get hurt by these people was like watching my life on repeat. I wasn't about to do that to a friend.  
  
he said quietly.  
  
----  
  
I was looking all over the school for Sean, bumping into people and not excusing myself. As soon as I'd gotten bored enough with skipping to actually go to English earlier, Towerz grabs me and pulls me away. It scared the hell out of me, because: 1) Towerz is the one of the most passive people I know, and 2) anyone who touches me suddenly like that usually deserves to be punched in the face. But he pulled me down the hall and we ducked into the guy's washroom. By this point, I was sure someone had died--or at least I'd hoped that he had a reason good enough to pull a stunt like that. Turns out, instead, his gas pedal was busted. Actually, his brake pedal had been busted for a few months and he hadn't gotten it fixed. But this was his gas pedal. I still thought he sort of deserved to be punched for that, but I spared him, and promised to come over and try to help him later. Another idea had just struck me--Sean. The kid was practically a certified automobile mechanic already, he could probably fix something as simple as a pedal in 10 minutes flat. I finally found him, far away from his own locker, standing with some curly-haired kid. Since when did Sean have other friends, in his OWN grade?  
  
I called over, without approaching the two. When he turned in my direction, I nodded and waved my hand for him to come over. He hesitated, but he mumbled something to the friend and walked over. He wet his lips and looked up at me expectantly...impatiently. You want $50? I asked, grinning.  
  
And the catch would be... Even his voice was impatient, and it was pissing me off, though I cleverly disguised it.  
  
Come and fix Towerz's car tonight, and this, I pulled the 50 dollar bill out of my pocket, is yours. I was always clever like that. Bribery was such an easy skill to learn. He hesitated again, and looked back at his friend.  
  
I can't, he said, looking away. Got a lot of homework to do, stuff to catch up on. I wanted to grab him by the shirt and tell him to fucking tell me the truth. Instead, I shoved the bill in my pocket and scowled.  
  
I muttered, brushing past him and heading towards the parking lot. In my rushing, I didn't pay attention to where exactly I was walking. I was too pissed off that Sean would pull something like that, and lie to me, and hang out with morons when I was the one who gave a fuck whether he lived or died. I also wasn't paying much attention when I bumped into a girl walking out of the girls' washroom, her bag spilling across the quiet linoleum hallway.  
  
Why don't you watch where you're going, I immediately lashed out at this girl, before recognizing her as Sean's ex-girlfriend...the goth chick....Ellie. She always seemed the assertive type, so I didn't really understand when she just took that from me and said nothing. I didn't want her to take it from me. It felt so much more fair when she fought back. When anyone fought back. I was about to walk away from her, crouched down on the floor and picking up all her belongings, and I frustrated myself to the point that I had to turn back. I picked up a notepad and a few pencils and threw them in her bag. She stared at me for a second with these big, innocent, outlined eyes. I stood up before my persona broke by this one incident. I'm sorry, I said harshly and insincerely, making my way towards the parking lot, leaving her to pick up the rest.  
  
-----  
  
I finally got home around 9 PM that night. The day seemed much longer than it had been, and I wasn't happy to be going home to face Sean again. If he were even home. Trying to fix the damn gas pedal myself was tough as hell. I had to do all this complicated shit and I knew if Sean was there, he would've figured it all out in seconds. I refused to recognize that he was not my puppet.   
  
I made my solemn way up the stares, clutching my keys tightly. All thought had sort of drained out of me earlier. I reached my door and opened it tentatively. I flipped the light switch right the door and closed it behind me. Everything was eerily quiet. He must've gone out. Jesus, I am killing that kid when he gets here, and he's going back home, no questions asked. I kicked off my ripped-up sneakers into my room and took off my jacket, now in my sweltering house. I almost walked right by the living room before moonlight shone in my window and lit a bottle lying on the table bright amber. I looked down on the couch and there was Sean, laying there with his arm still outstretched, his fingers still tightly wrapped around the bottle. I turned on the light, and his eyes flickered open.  
  
He sounded like a three year old calling out to his mommy when he lost her in a crowd. I was there, right behind the couch, but he didn't bother to lift his head and look. I didn't bother to respond. I turned off the light and headed off to my bedroom.  
  
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[AN: Finally. Shouldn't have made it a habit to update so quickly. Sorry this has taken forever, but yay, it's done. By the way, if you couldn't figure it out, the curly-haired kid Sean was hanging with was Craig. And if you couldn't figure that out, then you = the dumb. Heh, just kidding... [not really.]  
  
If Jay seems angrier than usual, then good. You're observant. Cause he's supposed to.  
  
Review, because my ego needs it. Thank you. Exciting chapter coming up!]


	6. Stumble, You Might Fall: Part I

A/N: OKAY! I'm sorry. I lied. This is not the hot chapter. I had all of chapter six mapped out. It was to include both Thursday and Friday, which meant the whole party as well. I had planned on the party being 2000 words or so, and everything before that being...oh, 800 words or so. Um, then I started writing and I realized that already, Thursday/before-the-party-Friday were 1700 words. So basically this and the next chapter (which will be done soon...hopefully?) fit together as one. I just don't want to have all these 1500-word chapters and then all of a sudden one is 5000 words. Okay, okay, I'm very number-conscious. Sorry. Read on and I guess, enjoy, but since this is sort of an intro--nevermind. Just read and review accordingly. Thanks.  
  
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I never talked to him about it. I didn't understand that sort of thing. I'd never had a friend I gave a fuck enough about to confront him about his or whatever. I mean, who wants that anyway? If someone like Towerz said something about my smoking, besides being initially pissed off that he would think it was a problem at all, I'd just be overall offended as hell, like he thought I couldn't handle my own problems. That was it. We all just had to handle our own shit, carry our own weight. And if someone was falling behind, you just let him. When did the world come up with this crazy help one another' idea? It was all complete bull. You live, you do whatever you have to do, you die. You can live without companionship.  
  
Thursday morning was silence. Thursday afternoon was silence. Just when I was finally getting used to talking to another person at home--not myself or the television, he just starts...moping around the house, like this big woe is me' act that I was not buying at all. Jesus, what a drama queen.  
  
But I had to admit, whatever the point of his silence was, it was impacting me more than I thought it could, whether he meant to or not. The TV was off, the radio was off, he wasn't talking to me, the room was silent, the walls were silent, all around me was silence and it was like I'd suddenly gone deaf, or the world had ended but I didn't care enough about the world outside my walls to go check. Or I just felt like a prisoner to my household, like Sean and I were jailmates and they had taken away every last form of entertainment, so we just waited here. Waited and waited until we died and rotted in the very same spots we refused to move from. It just seemed like every time I turned around, there was Sean, napping on the couch like some baby who requires twenty hours of sleep per day. By nighttime, I was being driven insane, and it felt like wave the white flag or die under the pressure. I was ready to call truce when the TV flickered on. And I looked over from my chair in the kitchen and there was Sean, half-lidded eyes watching some moronic kids' cartoon as he leaned his head back and popped a couple of Mike and Ike's into his mouth. It was like he had no idea of the mental strife I'd been going through in the past few hours. He just slept, slept like only an oblivious child could when the storm of the century is brewing outside his window.  
  
Now believing I was suffering from severe exhaustion (both mental and physical, but it was the physical part I cared about), I headed off to bed early that night.  
  
Friday morning was back to the normal breakfast small talk. Suddenly, though, we'd reverted to the business-only ways. There were no comments about the cereal or school or friends or Sean's alcoholism or the weather. Every comment was pertinent and on a need-to-know basis. It was like we were angry at each other, but had no idea why.  
  
Can you take me to the party around 7?  
  
I paused and shoveled more Lucky Charms in my mouth. Pick-up time?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Pause. Pick up and take home Ash?  
  
Yeah. Sure. Pause.  
  
Taking me home after school?  
  
  
  
There was a longer pause.  
  
When are you leaving? I finally asked. Though there were five hundred other more tactful ways to phrase that sentence, I didn't have the time for that kind of strategizing. His spoon, dripping with milk, fell to the floor.   
  
Aggravated, I bent over and picked up his spoon, and threw it back down to its spot.  
  
My house. When are you _leaving_? I asked it as if it were a reasonable question, but it really wasn't. After all, I was the jackass who never set limits on this. Jesus, I was so jaded last week, too blinded by my sick little obsession to see that Sean was planning on being a complete freeloader.  
  
You want the truth? he asked sullenly. I figured that was a rhetorical question. I mean, what kind of moron actually asks that sort of thing? I narrowed my eyes.  
  
No, tell me a fucking lie, I said cynically. It didn't matter much to me, because no matter what he said, I was throwing him out tomorrow. I don't care if he has to go live out in the alleyway or if he runs all the way to BC, as long as I didn't have to put up with him. I live in this house by myself. I buy what I need. I'm not prepared to buy the essentials for two people. I hate him eating all my cereal and all my candy, and using my soap and borrowing my hats and hogging the TV. But what I hated most was not being myself. I can't believe myself around this guy. I can't just sprawl out across the couch or sit at a chair when I eat my breakfast or watch any porn or talk to myself or do anything I had liked to do when I was all alone, in my own, private apartment. Now it was just like any other public place--I had to look a certain way, act a certain way. I hated this. I don't DO pretending.  
  
Until Sunday. I shoveled more Lucky Charms in my mouth and looked up at the crack in the ceiling that often dripped when it stormed outside. I looked outside, and it was sunny.  
  
  
  
---  
  
Without classes to go to, I find school is unbearable. At least when you're in a class, you can laugh at the teacher, or see how many rules you can break before the teacher sends you to Raditch. Never was really scared of Raditch. Always just saw him as Mr. Clueless Authority Figure. Never was really scared of authority. People controlling other people, that's what authority was. If everyone were truly honest-to-god equal, then why the hell would we have leaders who tell us what to do? That was always one of my major...things. Like, what I looked for in friends, people to join the crew.' Independence. You can hate yourself as much as you want, but as long as you're not sitting around and letting other people make your decisions for you, then you'll survive. Towerz doesn't seem it, but he's majorly fucking independent. Not a lot of pride or dignity, but he takes care of himself. Mostly cause he's got some insane trust issues, cause his dad beat him and his mom was this cokehead, took money straight from his college savings to feed her addiction. He's like the man of the house now, taking care of his two younger brothers. I don't know the details, I never really asked and I don't go over there often. My life pales in comparison to what he's gone through. Makes me feel like my life is a sham and I've just been pretending like I've seen the darker side of life when all I had to deal with was a slightly-insane mother all my life.  
  
Before I could analyze my life any further, the bell rang for dismissal. I sat, leaning against my locker and wishing Sean would hurry up. He finally excited as the last person out of the MI lab. He saw me and I nodded towards the parking lot. He looked frustrated and put up his index finger, then turned around and walked quickly in the opposite direction. I sat back down. Sitting, waiting. I hated waiting for Sean. I hated him ignoring me. I hated him having a social life that didn't involve me. I hated how we were still friends, how he'd never mentioned not wanting to be friends despite having all these freshmen friends now. It all just bugged the hell out of me. I started to wonder if there was anything he did that didn't bug me. He returned after a few minutes, after the hallway had started to empty as people made their way home.  
  
What was that all about? I asked, trying to remain indifferent (as usual), as we made our way to my car.  
  
Just...had to say bye to Ash, he responded nonchalantly. I didn't understand. Why what? Why did I care? Why was I asking? The is she your girlfriend now comment was on the tip of my tongue.  
  
Just wondering what was so important that you had to do hold me up all this time for it.  
  
Yeah, all of five minutes, Jay, he said, rolling his eyes. Big time-waster. Sadly, I really didn't have anything to say to that. We got to our respective sides of the car and got in. I started the ignition and was backing up out of the parking lot when he startled me with a question, in his classic whiny/frustrated voice. Are you dropping Ash and me off at the party, or what?  
  
I said firmly. I'm driving you there. He shook his head.  
  
What's the difference?  
  
'Dropping you off' implies I'm leaving right away. Driving you' impli...  
  
Jay, you're not staying at this party, he cut me off. It's an underclassmen thing only.  
  
Then they'll need me, after they realize how horribly lame the party is, I said, grimacing over at him. He bites his lower lip in frustration, I can see in my peripheral vision. It stays like that for the few minute car ride. It was like he was just waiting for the car to be in park to snap at me.  
  
I'm serious, Jay. You're not going to this. I looked over at him, with his big, scary, face. I couldn't help but laugh at that.  
  
What are _you_ gonna do about it? I asked, grinning. I knew he wasn't above kicking my ass into the ground, but I was ready for him today. Hadn't had a good brawl in a while, actually. He sighed in frustration and slammed the door on his way out. I sat and basked in my small victory. Winning over Sean was nice. It was like I finally had control over him.  
  
I was beginning to understand this whole authority' thing...  
  
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A/N: Review. I DEMAND. Or, you know, don't. As long as you're enjoying this, I'm happy. Woo.


	7. Stumble, You Might Fall: Part II

A/N: Yeah. Don't own Degrassi. No kiddin'.  
  
So, kids, this chapters marks a turning point for this story. Next chapter starts with a new sort of like, these seven chapters have been Side A, and the rest will be Side B. Something like that. So I'm thinking I might leave off here for a while--not too long, actually. But just a couple weeks before I start chapter eight. It's really getting down to needing to do summer reading daily, plus I'm in the middle of a couple fics I'm co-writing with some people, and I love these ideas and they're a great escape from jayfic, so there.   
  
This bud's for you.  
  
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I could still see Sean being frustrated at me constantly. Whether he was throwing on his jacket or taking a bite out of a Milky Way or staring at me contemptuously, he just couldn't get over the fact that I was coming to his little freshmen date night.' Yeah, like he actually thought I gave a fuck enough to watch over him all night. What he wasn't understanding was my pure need for a party of some kind. He stopped having parties since the alcohol poisoning thing, and the only person who ever actually knew when and where parties were was always Alex. Now I see her walking down the hallway with some grungy-looking football player on her arm. Or sometimes I'd have to leave the empty halls during the periods I skipped, because I would look down and I'd see her making out with one of them, groping and feeling and I'd start imagining what that felt like. Then, I just had to shake out the memory and think about something else to distract myself. Worked pretty well, I'd say. Most of the time.  
  
So here I was, my reputation falling steadily down the drain as I got ready to hang out with grade nines and tens. While I was dressed as I dress every day, I looked over and snickered at Sean. For once, he wasn't covering up the mess of hair with a beanie...and the hair wasn't really a mess at all anymore. Then the rest of his outfit...it all just seemed so laughably preppy. Who was he trying to kid here?   
  
See, this is why I don't want you there, Sean said bitterly, as he continued to pace back and forth, all the while adjusting every piece of clothing he was wearing. He stopped and looked all the way over at me from the living room. You're just going to sit there and bother me in front of my friends. Now that I had to laugh at, Sean still thinking these people were going to be true friends. The kid was just endlessly naive.  
  
I scoffed and laughed, blankly grinning.  
  
Yes, Jay, he said, walking towards me, I have friends that aren't _you_. He glared at me for just a second, before shaking his head and biting his lower lip. Then he gently shoved me against the kitchen wall. Get over it. And then he just walked away.  
  
I wouldn't normally take that. God, if I were in a bad mood, I'd punch him clear in the face. Like I couldn't deal with the fact that Sean had friends in his own grade. Fuckin' _please_. As much as he wanted to believe the world revolved around him, there was life before him. In fact, there was a better life before Sean. Then suddenly he shows up, my whole crew is fascinated. They were suckered into interest by the lameass stories about his criminal record or his knowledge of cars. Yeah, for a while, I was suckered into it all, too. Between Alex, Towerz and me, we never spoke of it, but what was all on our minds: this kid's more badass than all of us combined. We swaggered, we cursed, we smoked, we skipped, and we stole. Sean had deafened a kid.  
  
But then he joined us, and I ended up being the only one not in denial about it: Sean was no fucking badass. A badass, to me, is someone who does malicious shit for no reason and feels no shame. Sean was just always at the wrong place at the wrong time, and he caved in from peer pressure and his own issues with anger management. Stealing Simpson's laptop? Revenge. Picking that fight with me? Anger and bitterness. Nothing was ever cut-and-dry I'm-gonna-do-this-for-the-fun-of-it. Essentially, he was a fake.   
  
But when I put it like that, we all were.  
  
I kept stealing glances and smirking at Sean, fidgeting beside me, as I made my way to his date's house. He was directing me, God knows why he knows where the house is himself, but I just followed along for once, no complaints or rude comments. I don't even know why, maybe I just thought the kid could use a night without me giving him shit. He usually deserved to be given a lot, or maybe I just needed someone to shovel it all onto, and he ended up being the only one around most of the time. Or all of the time. He was pretty inescapable. But if he was gonna live in my house, he was setting himself up for this. So screw trying to be nice to him. If he wants out, then he can just get out.  
  
We pulled up to a quaint little house in upper suburbia. This was another thing: hanging around people who didn't understand him or understand where he was coming from, or understand what it was like to be poor as hell or...understand anything about living.  
  
We sat in silence for a few seconds after I put the car in park in front of the house. His eyes were closed in gentle anxiety and I continued smirking like the smug bastard I was being this particular night. In keeping with this pattern, I slammed my hand against the car horn twice as the tinny little echoed off of the neighborhood's tall houses. Sean looked over at me with that familiar kind of what the hell are you doing look plastered on his face. I laughed only slightly, and he stormed out of the car, being sure to slam the car door as hard as possible, signifying his indignance and pent-up rage. Like that act still worked on me.  
  
Only a couple minutes passed before Sean returned, this time with the girl. She looked a lot better than she had a couple days ago--or I just hadn't cared at all to look back then. Either way, I found it all pretty funny, how they themselves up for each other. This time, Sean sat in the back with her. I still couldn't help but wonder what was between them, and when curiosity took me over and I peered in my rear view mirror, I thankfully didn't have to witness any PDA shit. In fact, the whole scene looked pretty awkward, and if I were the type of guy to use that type of thing of my advantage, I would. Ah, fuck, I _am_ that type of guy, but I was kinda pushing that whole give-Sean-grief-for-no-reason shit lately, so I thought I'd settle down for a while. He was already fragile and unpredictable--you could never really tell when the kid would just...snap.  
  
After a painful fifteen minutes of begrudging direction-giving, we got to the house....the uh, Heather...someone's house. I parked around the corner and stood outside my car for a moment, lighting up a cigarette. The air was nice. Sean held open the door for the girl. I scoffed. He didn't hear. The two of them walked off to the party without so much as a see you later. I thought of leaving them stranded there all night. Then I rethought it.   
  
I started walking towards the house when I'd lost track of them. I didn't particularly want to see them at all tonight. In fact, if I didn't have to be little Seany's designated driver, I could have a great night getting fucked up beyond imagination. A little social interaction never hurt...wait, fuck. My mom used to say that. Now i'm channeling my god-forsaken bitch of a mother. I did need some fucking alcohol.  
  
I got to the door and walked right in uninvited, skipping the pleasantries. I didn't even know what I was gonna do here, stuck in a crowded room of underclassmen with loud Top 40 music blaring. I walked around the house, everywhere except the upstairs, searching for a spot where I could be by myself. There really was no room without people. As I passed by the table with the food, I quickly grabbed myself a bottle of beer and put it under my jacket, in case Sean was in the room and saw me. I sighed and settled for the room with all the couples, either happily cuddling or fervently groping one another. Either way, I knew no one would bother me, and even if they did, they'd be too happy to care when I tell them to fuck off.  
  
I kind of lay there for a while in degrading self-pity. Then, to get my mind off how much I hated myself, I thought about what had been going on lately. Then I hated myself more for forcing myself to think about my life. Then I pitied myself. This repeated several times until my attention was diverted.  
  
A guy and a girl entered the room, her leading him in by the hand, him smiling like an idiot. They sat down close to me, less than a foot away from my feet, and in frustration, I moved my feet, pissed off that they felt their groping session was more important than my temporary comfort. He had her practically pinned against the couch, each mouth looking like it was in competition to encase and swallow the other whole, and their hands roamed all over, through hair and into shirts and almost below the belt, but she skillfully stopped him without ever breaking the kiss. It all looked kind of gross, though I knew it was no worse (if not cleaner) than anything I'd ever done with Alex at parties, but I felt weird for a second, watching this all go on two feet in front of me. It just kept going on, though, and I lost interest when other couples poured in. I barely noticed it had ended until I saw that same boy walking out the door and looked back to see the girl had taken out a small mirror as she studied her face. I stared blankly for a second, more because I had nothing else to look at rather than because I wanted to look at her. Her eyes moved towards me, and she pursed her lips.  
  
Um, hon, any particular reason you're hanging out alone and watching people make out at a party like this? she asked condescendingly. I felt generous.   
  
Free softcore porn. Cynical, but generous. I bitterly stared around at the happiness that surrounded me, avoiding her gaze.  
  
Jay, right? she asked boredly, rolling her eyes. I looked back at her, and she seemed to understand my question. Uh, hello, you only harass my brother like, daily. I harassed a shitload of people daily, so she was going to have to be a little more specific. She sighed. Of course. Homochuk's sister. Wonderful. She seemed to be reading my face and knowing exactly what I was thinking, and it was driving me insane. If you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly brimming with joy to talk to you, either. It's called making conversation, FYI. It's what social people do. I was so not in the mood to talk to anyone, especially not some snobby grade ten bitch.  
  
What do you want? I spat at her. I looked upwards, towards the ceiling, and went down the list. Yes, me and my crew, we steal things, we break things, we've skipped class, now go get your little gold star from Raditch and leave me the hell alone. She continued looking at me, with a bemused look on her face. I looked back down at her. I said frustratedly.  
  
Paige Michalchuk, she said, outstretching her hand. I scoffed.  
  
Her feet moved up to the couch and she hugged her knees to herself and continued looking over at me while I pretended not to notice. This went on for a good five minutes or so before she spoke up again.  
  
I wouldn't be honest if I didn't say I was just a little curious about one thing. I glanced at her. She smirked. Do you actually hate gay people, or do you just get some kind of twisted pleasure out of torturing them every day? I sighed through my nose, as if to say get a fucking original question, and maybe I'll answer it. She didn't catch onto that, though. Hon, you can answer honestly. I'm not the one that'll get offended. I didn't want to answer. I didn't want to be having this conversation. I did not even want to be here. What the hell am I doing here?  
  
Fuck this, I mumbled. I don't have to answer your stupid questions, and I'm not gonna let you sit there and smirk with that bitchy holier-than-thou attitude while I just take your shit. I grabbed the hat I'd left on the back of the couch and exited the room, making most couples shift to watch the scene I'd created. I still had no idea where I was going--I'd trapped myself at this party and I couldn't leave for a few more hours. Trapped, that's what I was these days. Trapped at school, trapped at home, trapped everywhere I went, with my newfound responsibilities like the ball and chain around my ankle. I could not do anything. I was tied down and suffocated.  
  
I dramatically burst open the back door, leading to a small wooden porch, where the cool air was easier to breathe. I breathed deeply for a second and planned on heading back inside before I heard a small crash of glass breaking. I looked across the dimly lit porch and on a step sat a familiar figure. I cautiously but uncarefully approached him, taking small steps but then slapping him on the back.   
  
Where's the chick? I asked, back to smugness, back to the mind games we played, as I took a seat next to him.  
  
She left, Jay, he said, and his words suspiciously slurred together. She went home. She was being really stupid and she called me all these names... I shifted, and the light caught a shard of brown glass that lay by Sean's foot. She's just not right for me, or something. His voice was almost always firm and decisive, but now, here, it was just hazy, and ambiguous and vague. Like for once, Sean just didn't know what he wanted. There was really no point in offering sympathy when he wouldn't remember it in the morning.   
  
Yeah, well, I started, not really planning on saying anything. I started out into the empty darkness that was the backyard at this hour. No idea what sort of creepy shit was out there, and still I just sat here awkwardly under my dim light. Minutes passed, or hours, or maybe days. I felt something on my shoulder. It was his shoulder. The music from inside could be heard outside. It was calm. I had a moment of complete lack of consciousness. For a mere second, I saw everything around me with complete clarity, and saw it for the fucked-up situation that it was. Sean, drunk, laying against me. Me, sitting nonchalantly, staring at nothing. The rest of the world, ages away. I did the last thing I ever really wanted to do. I placed my lips on his, and didn't wait for a response. My hand creeped through his hair, and if one were watching, they would probably think I wanted this. I did not want this. I did, but I knew the repercussions and I knew this would only lead to more shit, but the kiss just got deeper and I wasn't aware of whether or not Sean was kissing back for most of the time, until I paused for just a second and his mouth kept moving. It tasted so much better than I'd remembered it, like a little drop of pure innocence, and the kiss just kept getting deeper and more pervasive--  
  
I heard a hushed whisper from behind us. I tore myself away from Sean and could only see the silhouette of a girl in the doorway before the door closed. Suddenly, I wanted to punch someone, particularly Sean, but he didn't deserve it, so I'd like to punch whoever made me go to this party, whichever son of a bitch but the thought in my head that I wanted to go to this. I took my lower lip into my mouth and bit hard, like if I let go, I might explode. I stood up and grabbed Sean by his jacket and dragged him around the house until I found my car and I got in and we drove home. The ride home was the hardest. Sean faded in and out of consciousness, but I wasn't paying attention to him much. My leg was shaking and I couldn't stop it. I read the Michalchuk girl's words in my head. I didn't have an answer because I didn't know. Now I know. Fuck. I know now. God dammit. I slammed my hand against the steering wheel and gritted my teeth. The thought escaped from the barricade I'd put it behind. I swerved to avoid a truck that was coming over the double yellow line. I slammed at the power button of the radio that was playing an annoying song. I shook Sean to make sure he was still conscious, and he was. Fuck. _Fuck_. I'm gay.  
  
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Review?


	8. And When You Are Gone

Disclaimer: If I owned Degrassi, I would ban all fanfiction, bizotch! ...K, not really.

Note: It's been a while, eh. Um, I guess this is a short chapter, but I don't even remember where I'm going with this fic, so the next chapter may be far away. Butttt, on the bright side, Thanksgiving break is six days long this year, and Christmas break is hella long, too. Woot woot, I'mma be writin' bunches, specially if I get encouraging reviews on this chapter. Oh, damn, I'm babbling, aren't I. Um, keep on readin'. Onto the story.

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My back ached when I laid down on my familiar rigid bed. My ceiling was blank white, but after staring at it so long, I could've sworn there were shades of purple and red mixed in there. Every few minutes, I grabbed the hackey sack resting by my hip, never looking down, and threw it up. Like I had pushed the slow-mo button on my remote, it seemed to linger in mid-air. This dirt-covered, broken-in hackey sack, one of the many reminders of how stupid and mindless I was as a kid and how I played stupid, mindless games, landed in my hand and I grasped it. Whenever you tossed around a hackey sack with someone, there was a small sense of pride when you'd catch it. I mean, it was pretty small, so catching it was pretty hard. You held onto it until you got bored. Then you threw it away hoping it would come back again. And it always did. The temporary thrill I got out of it was enough to keep me reaching out for it.

I suddenly realized I wasn't talking about hackey sack so much anymore.

I felt like a prisoner that Thursday. Now I realized, I hadn't even come close to the concept of jail. Not only could I not leave my home. I couldn't leave my room. I couldn't leave my bed. I couldn't leave this exact position I was laying in, staring blankly at the blindingly white walls. Every single muscle down to my fingers was tense, anticipating the second in which I exploded. I couldn't let my mind have the satisfaction of winning over me. I would lie there until I died just so I could be right, and not embarrass myself by letting Sean see me like this.

Sean. I fucking hated that kid. What I wouldn't haven given never to have to see his fucking face again. I didn't get him, I didn't get why he kept hanging around when clearly he had his own house that was completely empty, and I didn't get why it gave me a sick ego boost to believe that somehow he was clinging to me, like he needed me, because you didn't even have to dig far into my mind to realize I knew I was deluding myself. I buried all the shit that made me feel worthless, and covered it all in denial. I would break it all down if I could. His actions threw me off this path I was trying to create towards reality, towards living in the real world. Because he stayed here. Because he hung out with me. Because he didn't stop the kiss I'd started.

I guess that's what alcohol was, then. False hope. A disguise. You poured it down, it ran its course, and you did shit you wouldn't normally do. Then no one would know who you really were. I'd never drank to excess in public. It was weak. It was something those whiny emo kids did. Sat in the corner with their bottles of vodka and drowned their sorrows like the starving artists that they were. And that just made me question Sean more. I mean, not only was it weak, but he'd done it on a date. In front of his date. She called him stupid. I hated that chick, but I agreed with her there. He was so fucking naive, he couldn't even understand how to defend himself. Sometimes, it was like he didn't care who took stabs at his self-esteem. Like he had no self-pride at all.

At this point, I felt like, one of us has to die, because we can't both make it out of this sane. I didn't know whether he would remember, but I would, and that was too much for me. And the girl in the shadows, she knew. She would spread it. I was about to be destroyed. I wanted to die before I cracked, even just a little. In my mind, I destroyed the realizations of last night before they could hit me fully. The fact of it was, it wasn't true. I was in a rut, and I was doing stupid shit, but I wasn't going to make stupid-ass assumptions from one week's happenings. That's all it had been. A week. One week cannot fucking nullify seventeen-plus years of my life. No fucking way. This was my life, and I had complete control over every minor detail. I didn't play any other way.

So fuck this. If I want to go eat some cereal right now, I will, because this is my house and I'll do whatever I damn well please.

I sat up and picked up a pair of jeans from the floor, and threw them on, along with an old ratty T-shirt. When I stopped thinking my own thoughts for a second, I heard some loud mumbles and mutterings outside my door. Christ, if that's one of Sean's friends, I'm going to kick his ass, for real this time. I sighed frustratedly and twisted the doorknob, about to let myself out into the real world.

Come on, bro, get your stuff, I heard. You're going home. There was an empty pause, then Sean spoke.

he said, his voice devoid of emotion. I don't live with you anymore. I don't have to listen to you.Listen, if I'd have known you were gonna go and abandon the house like that, I never would've let you live alone in the first place. So pack up your shit and let's go. I cautiously appeared, moving out to see the scene I'd been listening to. Both Sean and the guy I assumed to be his brother looked at me; Sean, lying on the couch, his brother standing there sternly. It was the first time I'd seen Sean since last night, and I was shaking thinking of that. So this is the kid, huh?This is _Jay_, if that's what you mean. My name from his mouth was jagged but intriguing. Others said my name like the letter, blunt and oversimplified. But when Sean said it, it felt whole. You saw the name behind it. Jay, this is Tracker, Sean muttered, like a little boy forced by his mother to do introductions. My brother. Tracker was walking around the couch, and walked straight up to me. I bit the inside of my lower lip, keeping a straight face. I was Jay. I was always ready for a fight. Except for now. I made eye contact and I swore he was about to pummel me. I don't know why--the idea of being beat up by an adult was sort of stupid, in retrospect. The guy was mature. He wasn't like the people I'd known.

How old are you, kid? he asked, condescendingly. I didn't want to answer, because this question-and-answer bullshit made me feel even younger.

I said bitingly, breaking eye contact, looking over at Sean instead.

So when my bro shows up to your door one day, you think, I'm an adult. I can take this kid into my house. I'm mature.' That's what you're thinking, right? I didn't respond. He had no idea what I was thinking. Yeah, well, let me give you a clue. Being eighteen doesn't make you any more mature than being seventeen. You're still a kid. You can't do shit like this. He looked over at Sean, sitting there in all his indignance, like he was unsure who was more to blame here. He motioned over to Sean. If he ever pulls this stunt again, you tell him to go home. We clear? I stared at the back of the couch now. I felt like a six year old again, being scolded by my mother. I wanted to protest and scream and punch and kick, but all I could do was stand there and nod. Good. Sean, let's go. I stood there frozen as Tracker walked by me. Sean picked up his duffel bag and threw it over his back. He didn't even pause when he walked by me; he only glanced at me, both sympathy and anger written on his face. I still stood there when I heard the door slam.


	9. Glory Fades

A/N: Omg! Yeah, I'm not dead. I guess this didn't take as long, but it usually takes about a month for me to find one night in which: 1) I don't have homework to do; 2) I'm not too tired; 3) I feel like writing; and 4) I do a decent job at writing. So I found my night! How exciting, eh.

I've yet to decide how many chapters this will end up being. I'm thinking not too many more. Altogether there probably won't be more than 15. So um, woo.

Just to let anyone who cares know, besides the first paragraph's information above, this fic is often delayed because I have several ideas floating around in my head, including 2 new multi-chaptereds. And I'm working on not failing school. So there you go. Enjoy el chapter.

I'm not really in the mood for that philosophical, what-does-it-all-mean bullshit. People think it's such a shame, to think in black and white, but at least you don't get caught in some unclear fucking gray area, where people sit around makes theories about shit. I don't think I could live with someone constantly telling me everything I think could possibly true, but might not be. How does anyone live like that? It's like you're living a half-truth. I don't go for that shit. There's truth or there's lies, and you deny it or you accept it, but don't make things out like they're questions that can't be answered.

Christ, I hate this. Thinking so deeply about this grander scheme' bull. And every time I try to justify myself, I just end up with another effing statement about what I started with. It doesn't make any sense. All I want to do is do what I used to do. Hang out with my friends or stay at home and watch TV. Everything was a lot simpler back before God decided he hates my effing guts.

I lay down on my couch with a blank frown permanently etched on my face, supporting my head with my arm. It was the couch where Sean had slept the entire week. He'd only been at my house for eight days, yet without him, everything went back to being peaceful. It wasn't that kind of silence that made my head hurt. Or maybe it would've been peaceful, if I hadn't felt like shit. Feeling like shit made the silence seem empty. Like after your pet dog dies, or something. You're so used to hearing him scampering all around the house or barking like hell, and then one day, it's all gone. You knew the day would come, and even if you're okay with his absence, it's still like... you miss the noise, and the chaos. It kept shit interesting.

I fell asleep, sprawled across the small musty couch, almost forgetting that the next school day meant school.

Without music blasting into my eardrums at 7:30 AM, I didn't wake up until 9:30. Pretty good, actually, considering I still felt like shit, both mentally and physically, when I picked myself up out of the dent I'd made and went through my to find acceptable breakfast food. Rice Krispies were all I had left, so I dealt with the blandness and got dressed soon after. I probably didn't go all-out like usual with the gangsta wear, and looking back on it, that was probably one of the stupider things I did that morning. It got much stupider, though.

I pulled into Degrassi's student parking lot around ten. Grudgingly, I walked up the steps, as slowly as possible. Maybe I was thinking if I walked slow enough, I wouldn't have to go to school. Then again, it's not like I had to drag myself to this hellhole. I admitted defeat halfway up and walked normally. The hallways were empty in front of me, but Miss Secretary Bitch was sitting there with her usual bitchy glare.

I'm impressed, she said, smiling with the glare and a smirk. You almost made it for the third class of the day. She sighed, grabbing a yellow slip of paper from the corner of her desk and turning back to me. I avoided her glare, rolling my eyes in defiance.

My alarm didn't go off, I said monotonously, lifelessly.

she said slowly, jotting it down with her little Bic pen. She didn't believe me, but I didn't expect her to. This was me, after all. Surely I was out robbing old ladies and jacking people's cars all morning. Because I was such a fucking welfare case, that I just had to steal people's shit every day of my life. Or I was just bored, so I thought to myself, I need some fucking excitement, I think I'll go steal that person's radio. People don't know the first fucking thing about me.

I grabbed the yellow note from her grubby fingers and walked far enough down the hall before shredding it up, piece by piece, dropping each one on the clean hallway floor, and heading towards the boys' bathroom. I wasn't worried about teachers finding me--not many teachers gave a fuck about me anymore--but I wasn't looking to stumble upon Alex and some retard with their tongues down each other's throats. Instead, I threw upon the door to the boys' bathroom to see the queer lovers flirting--Michalchuk leaning against a bathroom stall with his hand running through the little gay one's dark hair. I couldn't see the second kid there, until the door slammed back against the wall and he twisted his body around to see who had interrupted his precious moment of gay bliss. But Homochuk just nonchalantly turned his head to me and gave me the same little smile that he'd just been giving the other kid.

The dark-haired kid mumbled something, then smiled sadly and scurried past me and out the door. I kinda had to piss, but I wasn't about to do it with the homo in the room. I just rolled my eyes at him and scoffed quietly as I walked to the sink. I glanced up for a split-second while I rolled up my sleeves, and he was still leaning against the bathroom stall door, smirking. If I hadn't been so tired, I'd have kicked his ass, wiped that stupid smirk straight off his face. Instead I just watched my hands as the water poured over them. I glanced up at him again when I got some soap. He just wouldn't effing leave.

I started thinking about how long I'd known the kid. He wasn't in any of my classes until grade five. This isn't some sob story about how we were best friends and now we're torn apart by different cliques or some shit like that; I just can't believe I used to think this kid was cool. He'd share his lunch when my mom forgot to pack me one or give me any money. Which was often. And... shit, I don't know, he'd just, _talk_ to me, even though he had all these athletic buddies. And he played hockey and... soccer, or something, and I remember a lot of girls giggling over him and approaching our table at lunch in packs. I remember being jealous. Looking back on it, it's fucking ridiculous. Jealous because I don't have flocks of girls walking up to me just for one of them to go making them erupt into another fit of giggles. But at the time, it was the ultimate ego boost. And what the hell does he end up doing? Throws it all away so he can date some little grade ten pansy. Becomes the smug egocentric prick who was still staring at me from the same spot.

I pushed the faucet down and I stared at him in the mirror. His smirk had faded a little. I hoped he realized he was losing this game. I put my hands down on the edge of the sink, leaning my weight against it.

You know, Homochuk, I said, glaring and giving my best impression of hate, maybe the whole world doesn't want to have to see your little queer escapades. I looked back up. His smile was completely gone, but he still looked pretty proud of himself. I just put my head back down when I saw him move from his spot, but I jumped when a pair of warm hands were placed on my shoulders. If he had given me a second longer, I would've knocked him to the floor.

And maybe you should practice what you preach, Jason, he said in his familiar arrogant way, breathing against my ear. Then, the warmth was gone, and the door slammed shut.

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A/N: Just so you know, I, in no way, shape, or form, agree with the things that are said about Dylan (which, I guess, so you know, is a blanket statement for all chapters that have derogatory statements about gay people--I personally feel that Jay is an ignorant asshole, so, obviously, I don't agree). This story is from Jay's POV and as we all can tell, Jay knows absolutely nothing about anything. So there you go.


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